Collection SamFaith Dean SPNBTVS crossover fic
by jajenshadimose6012
Summary: Lucifer is no longer waiting for Sam to come to him-he sends his minions to retrieve his vessel to finish this once and for all. While Sam and Dean are fighting the demons, they are helped by a mysterious gorgeous stranger: a vampire slayer named Faith
1. Chapter 1

"SAMMY!" Dean called out, his eyes following Sam as the evil demon bitch from hell threw him into the wall. Sam let out a small cry as his back slammed freaking hard against the wall. Ooh, even Dean could hear that. God, that sounded like it hurt like a mother. Dean actually flinched from the sound of it before jerking back around to face the blonde-headed bimbo, who was now glaring at him, giving him a knowing, taunting smirk.

"You are not taking my brother," Dean nearly growled. "Over my dead body, you bitch!"

She leered at Dean as she began slowly making her way over to him. "Well, in all fairness, you already have died…Dean. Having some angelic dick ride your ass out of hell just cause he didn't know how to say no to some crap order does not change that fact."

Dean returned her smirk, not needing to turn around to know that Sam was already scrambling to his feet—judging by the grunting and other sounds of struggling he was making. "I'm sorry; I think you have your angels confused," Dean said, narrowing his eyes at her. "It would be _your_ angel that is the dick. In fact, Lucifer just happens to be the dickiest of all the angels. Though, they do manage to have a fair amount of dicks on the other side of angelic douche nozzles, admittedly. Cas is just the exception to that particular qualification."

Blondie breathed a chuckle, shaking her head as she continued to stare at him. "You keep telling yourself that."

"Oh, I tell myself that every day," Dean said. "Only way I'm able to keep going in the good fight."

"Sorry, Dean," she snarled. "That good fight of yours is about to take a drastic turn. We come to collect. Boss needs Sammy now—no more waiting."

Dean opened his mouth to retort when somebody shoved him out of the way and body slammed Blondie into the opposite wall. Dean thought it was Sam at first—until he realized it was a chick and that Sam was behind him, still trying to recompose himself.

The chick was…well, to put it very lightly, she was _fucking __**hot**_. Like, we're talking Dean just about came from seeing her, alone. And, seeing her now beat the living hell out of that demon brought him a lot closer. She had long dark brown hair—so dark it was almost black—falling down her shoulders in thick waves. She was freakishly small—so small, in fact, that Dean was actually worried she might break her fist or something with how hard-core she was hitting that demon. She shifted herself for like a second so that Dean could see her face and…oh, dear God, her face. Her face was just so…asldnvopsghsoignsdovnsdo—or something to that effect. In other words, there were no words to accurately describe just how great her face was.

"Funny," Dean heard the chick grunt through clenched teeth, snapping Dean out of the trance he had fallen into since seeing her. He watched in utter fascination as she continued exchanging blows with the demon. "I come to kick ass." She grabbed hold of Blondie's hair and slammed the side of her head hard against the corner of the wall. "I also come to come, of course…"

Oh, God, Dean was pretty damn sure he just _came_ himself with that comment, but he couldn't be sure. God, this chick was freaking amazing. Why the fuck didn't they come like this anymore, damn it? Now, they were just so picky and he had to come up with all these lame lines and cheesy crap to make 'em swoon before they'd let him into their pants. Something, he thought, would not be the case with this girl.

She hit the demon again. "…and I am in desperate need of a good coming session or two right now, so…" She slammed the side of her fist into Blondie's face and grabbed hold of her arm before flipping her onto the ground. "So, if you're up for it—" she kicked her several times. "—God knows I sure as hell am."

Dean managed to turn around slightly to cast Sam a look and mouthed the words: "Fuck, dude!" making Sam shake his head in response, though Dean could tell Sam was just as turned-on by this chick as he was.

Dean could tell, though, cause Sam's hand kept twitching by his side and Dean had come to recognize that as a sign that Sam wanted desperately to jerk off. Every time he caught Sam watching porn, Sam's hand would be twitching like that for a while before Sam would finally excuse himself to the bathroom and he wouldn't come back out for a good half hour—or sometimes even longer. Dean knew exactly what he was doing in there, even though Sam did a pretty damn good job at keeping quiet while doing it.

Dean snapped back to reality when he heard the hot chick let out a scream as Blondie had now managed to get to her feet and was now slamming her against the wall, using her back to do so. Blondie threw her head back against the hot chick's several times, which finally sprung Dean into action.

Or at least, attempted action. He made to pull Blondie off of Hot Chick and gut her when Hot Chick brought her knee up and thrust it hard in between Blondie's legs, making her cry out. Then, Hot Chick flipped Blondie over her knee and kicked her hard in the jaw.

"Yeah," Hot Chick breathed a chuckle. "Hurts like a bitch, don't it? Stick or cave—certainly doesn't tickle either way, right?"

The other demon—a dark-haired dude that had been out of the picture for, like, two seconds when Dean had nicked him a couple of times with the demon knife and then practically knocked him unconscious—was now back in the game. He grabbed hold of Hot Chick from behind, restraining her arms at her side and backing them up several paces.

"Let me go!" she nearly growled, struggling against him. She threw her head back against his several times, but it hardly fazed him. "How the freakin' hell do I kill this son of a bitch!" she spat. When he shifted his position to try to tighten his hold on her, she seized the opportunity and grabbed hold of his arm and jerked him around so that he slammed—face-first—into the wall, before flipping him back over her arm.

By this time, Blondie was back to her feet and, sensing her, Hot Chick spun around and threw her into the wall with her forearm. "Bad idea, Blondie. You aren't the first vile whore to try to take me down. Just try it, bitch—I _dare_ you—and see what's gonna happen."

"Hey!" Dean cried out to Hot Chick, making her whip around to face him, managing to keep Blondie pinned to the wall with her forearm.

She turned around to see that Sam had already taken care of Dark-Haired dude and was now jerking a knife out of his back. Dean took the knife from Sam and tossed it over to Hot Chick, who easily caught it and plunged it hard into Blondie's throat. She dug it in deeper, keeping it there until she saw the light leave her eyes. Then, she pulled it out and watched with great satisfaction as Blondie collapsed to the ground, her body sliding down the wall.

Hot Chick spun on her heel to see Sam and Dean just watching her—both looking unsure about what to think of her, but both also looking extremely affected by her and what she had just done. Oh, God, had she seen that look zillions of times on zillions of guys. She knew exactly how to handle it…

Giving the two boys the most seductive smile she could manage, she lifted her black leather shirt—enough to really show off her amazingly toned abs—and used it to wipe the blood off of the demon knife. They couldn't help but admire the fact that she was wearing nothing but leather. Tight…black…extremely revealing leather. Her breasts were practically spilling out of her top and her pants clung tightly to all the right places, really accenting her great ass and making it all the more noticeable. When she walked towards them—God help them—her breasts would move slightly with each step she took. Only slightly but slightly was all they really needed to notice it. God, how could one woman be So. Fucking. Hot. Something about her was just so…

"Hey," she gasped out—her breathing labored from the fight. Had no effect on her hotness, though, except only to enhance it. "Take it you'll be needing this back?" She held out the demon knife to them, but made no move to actually fix her shirt, so her stomach was still very much showing.

Dean bit back a groan, forcing his eyes to remain on hers, and Sam concentrated all of his energy on keeping his hand steadied as he reached out to take it from her. "Thanks—"

He was just about to grab it from her when Dean grabbed hold of his hand and said, "What the hell are you doing?" Dean sounded like he had snapped back to reality—only slightly—and he now regarded Hot Chick with caution.

"What?" Sam asked, confused.

"Dude, don't you get it? She's a demon," Dean said frantically, and Sam actually staggered back with those words, regarding her with that same caution.

"She…what? How do you know?" Sam seemed a little iffy, not wanting to trust her just in case she was, but also finding no reason to believe that she was.

Hot Chick actually laughed her next words, sounding somewhat amused by the accusations. "Hey, I might have my rough spots, but I ain't no demon, yo."

Dean blew a raspberry. "Oh, please no way you could throw down like that if you weren't."

She looked somewhat insulted. "Excuse me? What; you wanna have a go with me? Cause I guarantee you I can take your ass like that." She snapped her fingers.

"Oh, believe me, you could take my ass anywhere," he said, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture and chuckling. "I'm very curious to see exactly which rough spots you're referring to here—if any of them happen to be sexual, cause I guarantee you…I sure as hell can soften 'em up for you."

She gave him a smirk. "That's what they all say. Very few actually make the cut. What makes you think you can? Yeah, you're hot, but doesn't say much for your capabilities, believe me. Most guys hot as you look great, yeah, but they've got themselves some crap stamina."

Now _he_looked insulted. "Hey, I've got myself the best stamina you will ever see in your life. Sex is my specialty. Hello, I'm Dean Winchester."

She snorted. "How nice for you, Dean Winchester. I'm Faith. And, this—I take it—would be Sammy?" She gestured back to Sam.

For some reason, the way she said Sammy turned Sam on so much that he actually did a quick check to make sure his erection wasn't too noticeable. Luckily, it wasn't but, dear God, was it there. Never before had something so small turned him on so fucking much. Everything about this woman was just—it was ridiculous how hot she was.

He swallowed hard and managed a small smile. "Yeah. Hi."Dean had to force himself not to snort since he knew exactly why Sam was being so awkward. "Thanks for…that."

She shrugged. "Seemed like you could use a hand—it was nothing. I needed a release anyway."

"If you needed a release, why didn't you just say so?" Dean asked, with a scoff. "I'm right here. I am a pro at releasing—"

"Let it go, Dean," Sam said, his voice much harder than Dean would've expected of him. "So, if you aren't a demon then what are you?" Sam directed his words to Faith.

She gave another slight shrug. "Do I have to be anything?"

"Yeah, you do," Sam and Dean said at the same time.

She rolled her eyes. "All right, tit for tat here, boys. I show you mine, you show me yours; we're even, 'kay?"

"Oh, no problems on this end with that one," Dean muttered, making Sam give him a look.

"I'm so sure," she told Dean. "When you're getting off by a damn hot dog or popsicle, doesn't take much else. I, on the other hand, demand quite a bit more."

"And, I know for a fact that I have that quite a bit more to offer. Not once have I ever had a woman complain."

She smirked. "Not one of those women have been me," she pointed out, with a grin. "When the chick is just as hot as you, you've gotta step up your game a notch or two. I'm just not sure you've got what it takes."

"What?" Dean nearly yelled. "Yes, I do—"

"Okay, enough with the talk about sex; back to the talk about reality here," Sam suggested, trying to sound like the responsible one, but the reason why he was desperate for the subject change was cause he was desperate not to be found out right here and now. He was very much nearing his own orgasm with the mere talk of sex with this chick.

She approached him and placed her hand on his arm, slowly trailing it up his arm and sliding it around his shoulders. "Ah, but sex is reality…Samuel."

He couldn't help but twitch at the fact that she called him his full name. God, why was that so hot? She smirked, needing no more to know she was getting to him.

"That's what I keep trying to tell the kid, but does he ever listen to me, no, "Dean muttered, mostly to himself.

"Anyways…" Sam said, shrugging out of her arm though he so wished he didn't have to. God, he wished he could just throw her to the ground and fuck her ass right then and there, but he didn't feel too comfortable doing that with his brother, like, right there, so he practiced some very much honed self-control. Ugh. Damn self-control.

"…so what are you?" he continued on.

She shrugged. "I'm a vampire slayer."

Sam and Dean were quiet for a moment, exchanging brief glances, before Sam finally asked, "A what?"

"A vampire slayer," she repeated, in an obvious tone.

"What the fuck is a vampire slayer?" Dean demanded, blowing another raspberry, sounding like he didn't believe her.

"What does it sound like?" she asked, as if talking to a child. "It's a chick that slays vamps. Pretty self-explanatory. Not much else to it."

"What?"Dean made a face at Sam, and shook his head. "What a load of crap. Sorry, but I don't buy it. I stand firm by my first impression. Demon," he accused.

She breathed a hard chuckle and narrowed her eyes at him. "I might've had my fair share of demonic acts but, uh…I'm over it. I've been over it for a long time now. Not a demon."

Dean looked impressed. "Whoa, there's actually a cure for that? Damn, Sammy, let's pass the word on to Cas; maybe he could pull some strings to get all this demon crap reversed before it even began, huh?" He reached over and backhanded Sam's arm.

"She was talking metaphorical demon, Dean, not actual," Sam said, with a slightly impatient sigh.

"Oh," was all Dean said, averting his eyes sheepishly. "Let's get past the moment."

"Yes, let's," Sam said, before turning back to Faith. "So, what exactly is a vampire slayer; why haven't I ever heard of you?"

"Yeah, we kinda closed down for business years ago," Faith said, with a slight nod. "System kind of shut down when the main dudes became the biggest assholes you could imagine—"

"We know exactly how you feel, right, Sam?" Dean interjected, but they ignored his comment completely.

"—so now it's just me and my girl, B," Faith continued her explanation. "Though, I haven't seen her for quite a while now. We stopped the world from ending a couple years ago and decided a little R&R time was in order. So, she's been living it up somewhere in Italy, shackin' up with some bad-ass vamp dude called the Immortal—"

"Whoa, whoa, a vamp?" Sam was now the one to stop her.

"Yeah, I know," Faith said, with a grimace. "She's got a thing with that for some reason. This is, like, her third vampire boyfriend—she goes through 'em like I go through underwear. Or how I _would_ go through underwear if I wore them, that is," she corrected, making both Sam and Dean gulp and their eyes immediately drifted down to her pants.

She didn't notice—or either went on like she didn't notice—continuing on. "It's cool though," she said, with a shrug. "Angel, her first vamp BF was, like the love of her life. He ditched her so that she could at least attempt to have some shred of a normal life—not that I even know why she would want one. God, I love this life; it's great. Then, Spike, the Big Bad vamp—formerly, anyway—Military got a hold of him, put this chip thing into his brain so he couldn't kill anymore. B got herself some very much needed screwing after a while, finally letting the vampire thing slide. And now…well, don't know much about the guy. Only that he's pretty freakin' hot and has certainly got a way in the bedroom.

"Aside from that, haven't talked to the girl in months. She took time off for that shred of a normal life she so desperately wanted for whatever reason—I took time off to come and do what I do best, which is shank the bad guys. This, to me, is a vacation. I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing."

Sam and Dean just stared at her, shocked by her approach to the matter. Yeah, they gave up that normal life to shank bad guy ass here and there cause it needed to be done, but both of them had a list miles long of things they'd rather be doing. For some reason though, that very approach only made her that much hotter to them. They couldn't help but wonder how that attitude translated into sex. Dear God, she had to be fucking amazing in bed—they both could tell that much.

She chuckled and shrugged again. "But, anyways, 'nough about me—you wanna know more; we'll just have to wait till later to see which of you boys earns the privilege. I showed you mine, now time to show me yours, hmm?"

Dean very much had to stop himself from reaching down and ripping his pants off just to prove to the chick that if anyone was worthy of that privilege, it _had_ to be him. Sam swallowed hard and took a step back behind Dean—hoping that he was positioned so that he could cover up whatever of his erection was beginning to show.

"So, what are you boys?" she asked again, stifling a smile at their reactions. "Besides walking, talking potential orgasms."

Dean laughed softly at that, but Sam was afraid that if he tried to make any noise, he would lose it so he kept quiet. "We would be hunters," Dean answered, gesturing back and forth between him and Sam.

She grimaced slightly and took a quick scan around. "Then, go shoot a damn deer and get off my turf—I have work to do that actually involves saving pretty little asses like yours."

"What, deer? No—"Dean began but she cut him off.

"Ah, I see; then bear?"

"No!" he repeated again, slightly irritated. "No bear. No deer. No animals. That's not the kind of hunting we do."

"We hunt supernatural beings," Sam explained. "Vampires, yes, but demons, ghosts, werewolves, anything supernatural that's evil…we hunt it. We drive across the country hunting these creatures together. We're brothers."

"I see," she said, with a slight nod. "Nice. Certainly got yourself some pretty sweet toys, I'll give you that," she said, tossing the knife to Sam, who easily caught it while still managing to keep his eyes on her. "You ever stop the world from ending?" she asked, more out of curiosity than arrogance.

Sam looked to Dean, who scoffed and said, bitterly, "We're working on it!"

Faith stifled a snort at the defensiveness in his voice. She held up her hands in a surrendering gesture and took a step back. "Hey, I was just askin', yo. Didn't mean it like I was questioning your capabilities or nothing. Really. Bet you're the biggest, baddest ass out there."

He grimaced appreciatively with that statement. "Wouldn't you like to find out?'

"Play your cards right," she said, giving him a suggestive smirk, before turning back to Sam. "Always love getting to know new people, if you know what I mean."

Sam managed a small smile, which she returned. "So, how'd you guys get started in this whole thing again?" Faith asked, with another grimace.

"Ugh, it's a long story," Dean was the one to answer. "Nutshell: Mom was killed by a demon when we were real young. Dad found her pinned to the ceiling above Sammy's crib when he was a baby—bleeding from the stomach—and she burst into flames. Dad got Sam and me out of there and raised us in this life. Ever since, he was obsessed with finding and killing the thing that killed our mom, so…our whole lives we drove from town to town, kickin' ourselves some demonic ass—or anything of the like."

"You at least kill the bastard that got your mom?" she asked, sounding more excited by the idea of them killing something than sorry about the fact that they were in that situation.

"Yeah, we got him, but definitely not without a price," Dean said, looking over at Sam. He gave her a small recap of Sam dying, going to hell for him, Sam getting hooked on the demon blood, and setting Lucifer free.

"…so now we're busting our asses day and night to hunt down and kill the devil. It's a real bitch," Dean said, matter-of-factly. "Apparently, pains-in-the-ass don't die so easy."

"I could imagine," Faith said, with a small, dry chuckle, but her eyes were locked on Sam. She stared at him with slight sadness and understanding. She understood very much his addiction and his pain and guilt—she too had her own addiction once upon a time. She had an addiction to power—an addiction that very much led to her pain and guilt. God, was it such agony to come back from…

"You all right?" Sam asked, noticing the look on her face.

She managed a small nod. "I want to help."

"What?" he asked.

"I want to help," she repeated. "I can help you—please, let me help you. I need to."

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but Sam beat him to it—knowing that anything Dean said would, in no way, be a good thing. "That sounds great. We could use all the help we can get." Dean turned his eyes on Sam, looking like he was going to protest him, but Sam continued on, handing Faith a folded piece of paper. "Here's the number and the place we're staying."

Faith opened it up and peered at it briefly before folding it back up and slipping it into her shirt, nestling it perfectly into her cleavage. "Catch up with you boys later then. In the meantime though, I've got places to go, people to see, helpless guys to do, and very little time to do any of it."

"Wait a minute, guys to do," Dean repeated, sounding slightly appalled. "What about the walking talking potential orgasms here, hello? We're just as willing as any other dude you can find to bag ya. And, believe me, we're a hell of a lot more worth it. Or at least, I am, can't exactly speak for Sammy here."

Sam grimaced slightly in protest before Faith gave another small, seductive chuckle and said, "Right." She approached them both slowly, winding an arm around each of their necks and leaning in so that she could whisper her next words. "Then, let the games begin…"


	2. Chapter 2

"Dude, what the fuck are you talkin' about; she is _**so**_ not your type," Dean protested, as he and Sam were now walking into a local bar together—still talking about that uber fucking hot Faith chick they had come across mere hours ago.

"And, what makes you so damn sure that she's your type?" Sam challenged right back.

"Because hot chick that I have not fucked yet is my type," Dean pointed out. "That's all I'm lookin' for in the chicks I screw. You, on the other hand, are looking for wholesome, good, strong women who do something for you, yes, but mostly are doing their best to make a difference in the world. See, and I, I don't care about any of that crap. You're hot," Dean shrugged. "you're in. Or rather—" he grimaced appreciatively. "I'm in," he corrected, with a small chuckle, making Sam roll his eyes.

"Exactly," Sam pointed out. "Hot chicks you haven't had sex with." Sam made a sweeping gesture around the bar with his arm. "This bar is filled with hot chicks. Why don't you go with one of them?"

"Because I don't want one of them," Dean said stubbornly. "You couldn't get a girl like that in a zillion years anyway, Sammy, I don't know why you're pushing this so hard."

"Why are you?" Sam returned. "Dean, please, man…I am asking you here. Just this once, for me. Let me at have the girl, huh? Come on, I never ask you for anything."

"Oh, now that's just not true," Dean accused, fixing Sam with a hard look.

"When have I ever?" Sam asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Well, let's see, there was Madison," Dean began.

"Hey, I won fair and square, man. Nothing I could do about it," Sam said, shaking his head fiercely. "Pick another excuse."

"And then there was Cara—"

"I thought you didn't even like Cara," Sam pointed out.

"I didn't," Dean agreed. "That still doesn't mean I still wouldn't have wanted my chance to bang the bitch at least once," he continued on, making Sam sigh irritably. "What?" Dean demanded, before turning to the bartender now that they had finally reached the bar. "Two beers please," he called, getting a nod of acknowledgement in return.

"Dude, you are sick," Sam said, grimacing slightly. "What is your problem?"

"My problem is I want to have sex with the hot chick, Sammy; now is that too much to ask?" Dean said frantically, leaning in with those words so that only Sam could hear them. "Come on, buddy, you owe me, after all."

"I owe you?" Sam sounded slightly appalled.

"Yes," Dean said, matter-of-factly. "You owe me."

"For what?" Sam demanded right back.

"Oh, I don't know, how 'bout for tryin' to shank my ass last year to go be a stubborn-ass and ditching me for the evil bitch face of bitchiness and her whorish-like tendencies and for unleashing Lucifer onto humanity and need I go on?" Dean spoke the words harshly to really get his point across.

Sam flinched, both in guilt and in shock that Dean would actually play that card. "Dean…that's not funny."

"Yeah, Sam, I remember, man. I was there. I remember the lack of laughter quite vividly. And, I think I have been a freakin' saint for not holding it against you. In fact, up till now, I hardly ever mentioned it. I find that quite decent of me."

"So, what; you decide to mention it now in order to get the hot chick?"

"Hey, you tried to kill me, man; I get to cash in that 'you-owe-me-big-time-for-not-gankin'-your-ass-when-I-had every-right-to' rain check whenever I damn well feel like it. And, dear God, do I damn…well…feel like it. So, hah. I win. End of discussion, Sammy."

Dean made to walk off when Sam grabbed hold of his arm and jerked him back towards him. "End…of discussion…Sammy," Dean repeated in a harder voice.

"No," Sam insisted. "Rock, paper, scissors."

"No, nah, nah, nah—" Dean violently shook his head. "I'm not falling for that one again."

"Come on, fair game that way."

"It's not fair if you win every damn time, Sam," Dean pointed out.

"Hey, it's not my fault," Sam said, with a shrug.

"How 'bout the game where we all win? I sex up the hot chick, you go back to the room and do that research that seems to get you off oh, so much, and I'll catch up with you some time tomorrow morning, huh? Seems like a fair trade to me. All right, see you later, Sammy. You give that research hell, you bad boy, hmm." He clapped him on the back several time and made to walk off again when Sam now stepped in front of him.

"Oh, my God, _what_ now?" Dean was now getting pissed.

"Dean, you are not getting rid of me that easily."

"Hey, I'm doing you a huge favor here," Dean said, holding his hands up with a grimace.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I'm saving you all the humiliation."

"What humiliation?"

"Well, face it, buddy. No way in a million years could you ever, ever, ever get a girl like that. Not ever. I'm saving you the humiliation of getting shot down here. You should be thankin' me."

"I'm not thanking you…for being a total dick, Dean," Sam said, in a hard voice.

Dean shrugged. "Why not? Give me a couple hours and she'll be thanking me for that very quality of mine as opposed to your complete lack of."

Sam smirked dryly. "Cute. Not gonna work. Come on. Rock, paper, scissors, now."

"No."

"Fine then, I'll just tell her some stuff about you."

"Oh, yeah; like what?"

Sam shrugged. "How 'bout the fact that you had sex with some 17-year-old chick just to win a bet for ten bucks?"

"Hey!" Dean pointed an accusing finger. "In my defense, for one, that chick was hot, for two, I was only 24 when that happened so I wasn't that much older than her, and for three…how the hell did you even know about that?"

Sam averted his eyes sheepishly. "Overheard Dad lecturing you about it the next day. It was one of the only times he was laying into you for something you did wrong as opposed to me, so…yeah, I kind of liked the fact that you weren't seen as utter perfection in his eyes."

"You what? How did I not know about that?"

"You guys thought I was asleep in the back seat of the Impala—I pretended like I was and well, you guys bought it. Didn't take much else."

Dean grimaced at Sam with those words. "I oughta kick your ass for that, boy."

"No, you oughta stop being a wussy and just get it over it already—it was years ago. And, let's go right now. You and me. Rock, paper, scissors."

Dean rolled his eyes, but after much influencing from Sam, he finally gave in and did it. Sam, of course, easily won—two rounds—within a matter of seconds, making Dean stomp his foot and cry out in protest. "Dude, you suck ass."

Sam grimaced. "Well, I'm hoping after tonight anyway."

Dean scowled at Sam. "Sam. Never gonna happen, man."

"Well, I guess we'll see," Sam said, with a careless shrug.

"I guess we will," Dean agreed, his tone as careless as Sam's had been. "Just don't understand why you want to put yourself through that is all. No way in hell would any woman in her sane mind choose you over me. That just does not happen, Sammy."

"Would you…let it go, Dean?" Sam said irritably.

"I don't let go of things worth holding onto," Dean retorted.

"What; you don't think she's worth holding onto," Sam accused. "You only want her so badly cause you know I want her. This is just to prove your point that you can have her and I can't; it has nothing to do with her."

"Maybe it does have something to do with her," Dean snapped.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam said, not buying that for one second.

"Maybe it has everything to do with her," Dean suggested. "Maybe this isn't just about bangin' the hot chick , Sammy. Maybe this is something that I might actually wanna pursue. For more than just sex."

Sam considered that for a moment before scoffing. "Come on, Dean! That's crap and you know it!"

Dean made a face and looked away. "It was worth a shot."

"Well, it's a shot that I'm gonna make damn sure you don't take," Sam said. "Dean, come on, man, think about this. I always stand back and let you get the girl. Not once do I ever ask anything of you. I allow you to take the chick, go your own separate ways, and do whatever freaky-ass sex crap you want with her. I never—but, please, Dean, I'm asking you now. Just this once. Stand back and let me get the girl."

Dean looked off to the side as if considering the option before letting out a sigh. "Nah, can't do it, Sammy."

"Dude! What is going on with you?" Sam demanded. "You never fight me for a chick."

"No chick has ever been that fucking hot before," Dean pointed out.

Sam opened his mouth to respond but then stopped himself. "I would contradict that, but there is nothing I could say that would ever be a valid contradiction to that comment," Sam realized. "She is pretty hot. Really hot."

"Really, really,_ really_ hot," Dean agreed with a nod.

Sam opened his mouth to respond when he happened to look over onto the dance floor and saw her…

Faith was dancing on the dance floor—actually dirty dancing—with three or four guys, grinding herself against them, reaching out to touch them while also running her hands all over her own body too. God, her hands were all over the place. She was all over the place, allowing herself to be tossed around from guy to guy. She allowed them to press up against her and move freakin' hard-core against her and if anything, she only urged them on.

One of the guys had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist and from behind and he had her pulled up completely against his chest so that her ass was pressed tightly against what Sam could only guess was the guy's erection, judging by the smile on her face as she rubbed herself up and down against him. He was sliding his hand into the front of her shirt, trailing his hand along the smooth skin of her stomach and even gently squeezing the skin there.

The other guys surrounded her and did all they could to get in there themselves, squeezing their way in so that they could have whatever contact with her they could manage.

Her eyes flicked over for the briefest of moments to meet Sam and Dean's and, with a slight smirk, she wrapped her arm around the guy's neck who was still behind her, winding it around his neck at an awkward angle, but somehow making it work. Then, she tilted her head slightly so the guy could bring his lips down to hers, but she never actually let him kiss her. She tilted her head from side-to-side so their lips were touching, but the kiss was never deepened.

Twining his fingers in her hair, the guy tilted her head even more to the side so that he could trace her jaw line with his parted lips. He tried to do more—to kiss, to suck on her jaw—but, she wouldn't let him. She finally shoved him away playfully—only slightly—and shook her head slightly at him, though she still kept her hand on his chest.

He grimaced slightly, but didn't protest it; he just kept grinding against her, taking what he could get.

"That's it," Sam said, the slightest hint of jealousy in his voice as he smacked Dean's chest with the back of his hand. "I'm going over there."

He made to walk off, but this time, Dean grabbed hold of his arm and jerked him back around. "Whoa, whoa, whoa…big fella." He breathed a chuckle. "You're not going over there."

Sam made a face. "Well, why not?"

"Because we've been through this already and I'm going over there," Dean answered, pulling Sam back slightly.

"No, you're not, Dean. This time, I get the girl, remember?" Sam reminded him, jerking his arm free of Dean's grip.

"Hell no, you're not," Dean said, appalled by Sam's confidence.

"Watch me," Sam said firmly, going to turn around but Dean's words made him stop.

"You're just gonna get shot down, Sam; what do you have to gain?" Dean said, now growing urgent with the realization that Sam was actually going over there.

Sam gave Dean a slight smirk. "Because I take it that—ten bucks or nothing…she's lookin' for a big fella." And, with that, he was gone, rushing over to the dance floor as fast as he could without actually running into anyone or seeming too eager.

Dean blew a raspberry as he watched Sam go. "Your height has nothing to do with what the chick's lookin' for, buddy. I'm a pretty damn big fella, myself. Might not be that obvious, considering I'm not freakin' Goliath Jr. over here, but I definitely suffice. Got all the tools I need to keep my women satisfied. Don't need nothin' more. You ain't got nothin' on me. Keep it up with that damn excuse, just might have to pull my misters out and show you what I'm made of," he muttered bitterly to himself.

He turned around to see a group of women gawking at him for that comment, looking him up and down. He gave them his award-winning smile, gave a slight shrug, and made his way over to them. "How's it goin' over here, ladies? Next round on me, huh?"

Meanwhile, Sam had finally reached Faith and he said, as boldly and firmly as he could, "Mind if I cut in?"

Faith's eyes met his, though she never did quit dancing, and she smiled slightly. "I'm always open for you, sexy." And, with that, she managed to escape the other guys, who immediately moved on to dance with other girls—or some just by themselves—while Faith made her way over to Sam and wound both arms tightly around his neck.

She immediately started pressing her body up against his, grinding harder and harder against him with each movement. His hands found their way to her waist and he got a firm hold on them, holding her in place as he returned those very movements until he was very much in perfect synchronization with her own. Her hips would buck hard against his, her breasts pressed more and more against his chest, and her arms remained locked around his neck—her fingers tangling in his hair—and her eyes locked on his.

"You keep looking at me," he finally pointed out, not stopping for anything, but rather increasing his pressure against her—having no idea how he managed to do so without exploding considering how prominent his erection was becoming.

"Yeah?" she said, as if it was no big deal. "And? You're great to look at. What; you're shocked by that?"

"No. I mean, no I didn't mean it like that—" he immediately corrected, knowing how that must have sounded. "It's just that…you didn't look at the other guys once. Yeah, your eyes would casually drift over to them, but with me—I don't know, it's just different."

She gave a nonchalant shrug. "Well, what can I say? You're a hell of a lot hotter than those dudes were."

"Then, why were you dancing with them?"

"I wasn't," she corrected. "They were dancing with me."

"That makes no sense."

"I'm just sayin' that I didn't really wanna be dancing with them. They were just—I don't know, there. Couldn't wait over here like a pathetic little bitch to see if you decided to get up off your ass to come over here to dance with me yourself. Honestly, I do that a lot. A way to unwind from the slayage thing. Really helps to clear your mind if you just translate all that tension from the violence into sexual tension. And, that's always easy to release."

"Mm-hmm," was all Sam could choke out, swallowing audibly with that comment. Dear. God. Why was she so hot?

"See, I didn't wanna go all strip club over here but you really left me no choice. How else was I really supposed to get you over here? No matter what mistakes I've made in the past, whatever wrong opinions I might've had at one point, one thing will never change. Life of a slayer is as simple as this. Three words, Sammy. Want. Take. Have."

Sam gulped as he waited for her to go on. "Want—God knows I want you. I mean, my God, I don't even know what it is, but there's something about you that is just so—" she shuddered, having no word for it. "Well, let's just say…" she leaned in to whisper the words in his ear. "…I want it. I want you, Sam. And, judging by that weapon in your pocket that keeps digging into my hip—" she said, with a smirk. "—you want me too."

Sam tried to hide his embarrassment, tried to pull away from her, but she wouldn't let him. "I really…wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned, tightening her hold on him.

"Why not?" Sam gasped out.

"Because…I want you," she breathed into one ear. "And, you want me," she breathed into his other ear. "And, there's nothing in the world stopping us. Take me, Sammy. Have me."

Sam held his breath so he wouldn't grunt or moan or something. "Faith…we're in public."

"Exactly," Faith agreed, pressing herself against him so that there was now no space whatsoever between them. Her breasts were completely pressed against his chest and she shifted herself against him, applying more and more pressure so that he could feel them even more—he could feel every movement of them. She continued moving herself against him, pressing her breasts further and further against him until every inch of their skin was connected.

"Only makes it all the more exciting," she pointed out, with a wicked smile. "Take me," she practically hissed the words. "Take me, Sam; you take me now. Right here."

"Right here?" Sam wasn't sure he was hearing her right—his head was spinning from how turned-on he was.

"Right here," she repeated, now practically growling the words.

He made to bring his lips down to hers, but she put two fingers to his lips to stop him. "No, not yet," she whispered. "Not that yet—anything but that."

"Anything like what?" Sam didn't want to cross any boundaries here.

"Anything, Sammy" she clarified. "There are no limits—there is nothing that I am not willing to do here."

Assuming that that was true, and casting a quick look over at Dean, whose eyes were glued to him to see what he would do, Sam gave Faith a small, suggestive smile and muttered, "Okay then."

"Okay then," she repeated, watching him as his hand slid down her stomach and worked to open those leather pants of hers—oh, dear God, she still had them on.

And, wow, she really didn't wear underwear, Sam noticed, since his hand immediately made contact with bare skin. He was sure to keep her obscured so that no one could actually see anything, but exposed enough so that he could see as much as could be seen with her pants open. God, he felt that tightness in his jeans tighten even more—if that was even possible—as his fingertips lightly stroked the warm, bare skin exposed to him.

He stifled a gasp at the feel of it and pressed his fingertips even harder against the skin. Oh, God, he never did stuff like this, particularly not in public but something about it was just so exhilarating to him and just so exciting. He dipped two fingers even lower into her pants, exploring the area with those two fingers. He would just touch and stroke the skin at first, not wanting to do anything to set her off here. That would be way too conspicuous.

He dug his nails hard into her skin, and despite how sensitive the skin was there, she could not deny how fucking amazing that mere contact felt. Even more so, he hesitantly brought his fingers down lower to slowly part her lips, spreading them as wide as he could and stroking her even harder and faster now, applying more pressure than before. He rubbed and he rubbed and he rubbed until she finally gave a small gasp and shifted herself against him so that she could feel the best parts of it in all the right places.

His fingers finally made their way over to her clit and he pinched it between his thumb and his index finger. He gently squeezed it and stroked it and rubbed it, rubbing it between his two fingers for a long time, increasing the pressure more and more and more until he felt her go weak in the knees.

He stroked her again and again, switching back and forth between the actual clit and just stroking the skin in between her lips. Then, getting even more ambitious—and glancing back towards Dean to see that he was still watching them and loving the expression he saw on his brother's face—Sam went for it.

His fingers circled her entrance several times, teasing her before actually giving her the satisfaction and so that he could watch the look on Dean's face as he did this.

"God, Sam, do it," Faith finally spoke up, shifting herself so that she could try to force them in there herself. "Please, do it. God, I need you in me. Now, I need you in me; I need to feel you in me."

That was all Sam needed to do the deed. He couldn't help but appreciate the fact that she was already wet for him—so, so wet—making it easy for him to ease his fingers into her entrance. He took great care not to hurt her since he wasn't sure how sensitive she was down there. When he realized that she was perfectly fine and her gasps and moans and sighs were urging him on, he slid them into her all the way—sliding his fingers in and out of her—in and out in and out in and out. God, he loved how she felt so much and this wasn't even the actual sex; this was just foreplay.

He found himself twisting his fingers around inside of her, moving them every which way, curling his finger up and then opening it again. He explored how she felt inside, stroking her inner walls, circling them perfectly and making sure to touch every last inch of her.

He had no idea how long his fingers were inside her, but when he tried to pull them back out for good, Faith knew what he was doing and she tightened up, clenching her muscles down there so his fingers were stuck inside her.

He looked to her, trying to figure out what she was doing, but all she did was give him a seductive chuckle. "Don't you dare…get out of me. You pull out when I say you pull out, you understand me? I said I need you inside me, damn it, and God, I do. I do, I need to feel every last inch of you inside of me, Sammy. On my terms."

He nodded slightly at the bold command in her voice, not really knowing what to say to that. He had never been with a chick that had ever been this aggressive before. It would definitely be interesting. Suddenly, feeling very spurred on, he slid his other hand around her waist and down to cup her ass. He used that to hoist her up to make holding her all the easier as he still managed to continue grinding against her.

He continued doing that, his fingers moving inside her at a much more rapid and intense rate, his other hand holding her ass—squeezing it, massaging it, even digging his fingertips into it—his body still entirely pressed against hers, as he was still dancing with her.

"God, your ass," he choked out, unable to help the grunt that escaped his lips. "You have got the best ass I have ever…seen in my life. It's just incredible."

"It really is," she said, her smile now a little more delirious. She moved her hands down his back so that she could grab his own ass. "Oh, God…" she finally said, practically laughing the words. "Right back at you."

Too quickly though, she moved her hands back up, sliding them into the back of his shirt so that she could now run her hands across the skin of his bare back. "And, oh…my…dear…sweet…fucking…God, those are really, really great," she observed, clutching desperately at his back muscles and digging her nails hard into his skin.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," he managed to gasp, forcing a smile as his eyes met hers.

"Care to show me the rest?" she challenged.

"Care to have the time of your life?" he returned the challenge.

She grimaced. "Oh, God…give me your best shot, baby. Like I said…always open for you, sexy."

"God, I hope so," he said.

He moved the hand that was on her ass up so that his forearm could stretch across the length of her back and he slowly dipped her so that her breasts were practically completely exposed to him—only covered by what he could only assume to be a shirt. Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly with each forced breath she took, the smooth, flawless skin of her chest slick with sweat and when the light hit it just right, it would glisten, making her breasts only look all the more appealing to Sam.

Her head tilted back, completely exposing her throat and her sweat-soaked chest to Sam. He actually licked his lips in response thinking of all the things he wanted to do to that chest of hers. He stared at her for a brief moment, just stared at her and what she had to offer him. God, he had never known a chick to have that much to offer him only after just having met her.

"Let me know how you like it…baby," he nearly growled his words now.

He lowered his lips to her throat and began ravaging the skin there, his mouth working hard and fast against her neck to make sure he got all the sweat, while his fingers still continued to move just as hard and fast inside of her. God, now that he was there—even though it was a small part of him, he realized she was right. He didn't want to ever _not_ be inside her. He had to be. He didn't want to remember what it felt like to not have this feeling coursing through him. God, it was so, so intense. More intense than he had ever felt it before.

It finally got to the point where he couldn't take it anymore and he skimmed his trembling, parted lips and the bridge of his nose down the skin of her chest, gathering up the drops of sweat with his lips. God, the taste of her sweat on his lips…it was like nothing he had ever tasted before. It was so amazing, in fact, that he worried that he might develop a new addiction to the taste of Faith's sweat, to the taste and feel of her.

He could just see it now: in a couple of weeks, Dean would be planning another intervention, saying that Sam was too obsessed with having sex with Faith and how it was going to destroy him. Although, if that was the case, then dear God, let him be destroyed. No way in hell would he ever give this up, not to save the world. This chick was just that good…with the mere foreplay. God, he was kind of freaked to think of her during sex if she had this much affect on him with the foreplay.

Sam's lips moved slowly along the miles and miles of Faith's skin, working to get rid of all her sweat for her. He couldn't help but love the fact that every time she breathed—since she was now breathing in desperate, frantic gasps of air—her breasts would rise and fall against his lips, so much so that they would even enter his mouth. He had to force himself not to rip off that damn shirt right now and just go to town on her—God, he wanted to. And, yes, he was technically proving a point to Dean with how far he was going here in public, but…even he had his limits on how far he would go.

He didn't exactly get off on the idea of having sex with a whole audience watching them and cheering them on. Yeah, not exactly his fantasy.

He had no idea how long they stayed there like that, but at one point, it finally became too much for him to handle. So, for the briefest of moments, he tugged one side of her shirt to the side so that her breast was completely exposed and he took her into his mouth, swallowing her whole.

Not even caring if anyone was watching, he kissed and he bit and he sucked and he licked and he did everything that his mouth knew to do when presented with a breast before going over and dragging his tongue in a perfect line along her chest up until he reached her lips. His other hand immediately grabbed hold of her breast—both to keep it covered and well, to hold it, to squeeze it, to massage it. His fingers kneaded circles into her breasts, the pressure intensifying more and more with each one.

He still continued fingering her, his fingers now so fast and so hard that she was on the verge of being rubbed raw—not that she gave a fuck about it—and he made to kiss her when she stopped him.

She let out a growl before practically yelling, "Sam, I need you fuck me! You fuck me now!" And, like that, she slammed his head onto hers so that their lips met and within seconds they were practically fused together for the longest time.

It took every last ounce of Sam's strength to pull away from her and force out the words, "Wanna get out of here?"

She chuckled once deliriously. "No…I wanna get into here." She reached down to grab hold of his hand and shoved his fingers even more into herself, actually stifling a scream as she began rocking herself against Sam to the rhythm of his fingers inside her. Her eyes were shut and her body moved with the exact same rhythm, her hips bucking so hard against Sam's that he thought for sure he would topple over.

"But, uh…" she finally sputtered. "Since I'm not exactly down with fucking you in front of all these people…what do you say we head back to my motel room, hmm?"

"Working TV?" Sam asked, in between kisses, still keeping up with his previous acts.

"Mm-mm," she mumbled against his lips.

"Room service?" He broke another kiss, but his lips were immediately back on hers again.

"Nope." Her word was muffled by his lips.

"Shower?" Sam forced himself to break away from her lips completely so he could look at her.

"For your convenience," she answered, biting her lower lip suggestively with that comment.

He chuckled once—his voice just as suggestive as hers had been, "I'm there."

And, like that, his lips were on hers again, their lips, bodies fusing themselves together as if their very lives depended on it. As if everything inside of them needed that fusing, needed that very physical—and emotional—connection, that unity of their two bodies coming together as one.

Holy mother of God, did Dean get the crap end of this deal! Sam couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. After all this chick was the equivalent of a Utopia on earth. Not that Sam could actually bring himself to care about Dean's lack of getting to bang her, but nonetheless…

Faith was very much on the verge of giving him a priapism…one that would rage on and on and on for days, weeks, months—hell, maybe even years after this one experience. Dear God, he could not wait…


	3. Chapter 3

The door was thrown open as they came staggering into her motel room—Faith shoving Sam even further into the room. She had used enough force to make him actually stagger back, but she had a tight enough hold on him that she was able to keep him steadied. Not that that hold did much good when she threw herself on him again. His knees buckled and he stumbled back again as he tried to support the sudden impact of her full weight crushing his. She reached her lips to his, her lips moving hard and urgently against his, as she somehow managed to kick the door shut with her foot.

The kissing increased, becoming hungrier and more intense—one kiss melting into another and another and another. Practically growling in her anticipation, she jerked herself away from him almost immediately—her hands racing up his chest and fisting around the fabric of his shirt so that he could tear it off him. Yes, she actually tore it off, not giving the slightest fuck about it as it fell to the ground by their feet. With a breathless chuckle, she pressed her palms hard against his stomach and slammed him hard against the wall. He actually grimaced and inhaled sharply at the brief—but oh, so worth it—pain he felt from the impact, but if anything, that only spurred her on more.

Her shirt, Sam couldn't help but notice, was long lost by this point, probably coming off—or rather, being appropriately ripped off—somewhere in the hallway on the whole five-minute walk from the car to the room. Yeah, they just could not bring themselves to hold out—even just for that five minutes. Staring appreciatively at her completely bared breasts, Sam couldn't help but ask, with a small breathless chuckle. "Doesn't bother you that those people saw you in all your glory out there?"

Chuckling breathlessly, she managed a slight shrug before pressing her lips to his again. "Eh, they had themselves a show," she said, in a careless tone. "It ain't every day you get to see two people as hot as us about ready to fuck in public. They're counting their blessings."

"Twisted way of thinking you've got there," he managed to choke out, between kisses.

"Mm, insanely fuck-able, wouldn't you say?" she said, with a suggestive chuckle.

"You could say that," Sam agreed. "Everything about you is insanely fuck-able."

"Then what's the problem?" Faith asked, gasping desperately for her much needed oxygen right now.

"The problem is now everyone out there knows it," Sam pointed out, as she began slowly trailing her index finger down his chest, keeping her eyes locked on his.

"Jealousy's hardly an insecurity I expected to see on you," she said, with a slight smirk. Her hands were suddenly slamming hard onto his chest to lock him in place against the wall, before racing down to his pants and fumbling to undo them. "Not the best color on you admittedly," she pointed out. "And, not at all necessary when it comes to you."

"I'm not—"

She jerked his belt out of the loops, before he could finish his sentence, tossing it to the ground. She quickly undid the button of his jeans and took a brief moment to just barely run her palm across his erection through his pants, feeling as it became more prominent against her hand.

Without warning—that very prominence spurring her on—she sank to her knees before him and sensing what she was about to do, Sam stiffened up and his eyes jerked open. Staring down at her in fascination, he watched as she grabbed a hold of his waist tightly with both hands to keep him locked in place against the wall. Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly tugged his zipper down with her teeth before bringing her hands around and pulling his jeans down until they fell at his feet.

She grabbed his leg and assisted him in pulling it all the way out of the pants—doing the same to the other leg—and spreading his legs open as much as she could so that he could still be considered standing against the wall. Her hands then slid up the inside of his legs until she reached his boxers and with one hand, she tore them off of him—this time, actually tearing them to shreds—and tossing the ruined fabric aside.

Smirking, she raised herself on her knees so that she could easily reach her mouth to his already intensely throbbing erection—appreciative of that particular fact- her hands moving up to clutch tightly at his hips. Noticing the evidence of pre-come on the head, her tongue flicked across it to lick it off before wrapping completely around the shaft and tugging it all the way into her mouth until she could practically feel it against the back of her throat. Not enough to actually gag her, but God, could she feel it.

Urging her on even more, she began sucking urgently on him—her mouth working against him hard and fast. Her teeth, her lips, and her tongue were all working in the most perfect of synchronization with one another—all of them competing with the others, but none of them actually winning or taking priority. Hot liquid was soon gushing into her mouth—the salty, intoxicating taste of it flowing onto her tongue and flooding the back of her throat.

Swallowing hard and eager for more, she sucked on him even harder, taking him even further into her mouth—impossible as that seemed. She sucked as hard and as fast as she could for as long as she could, drinking down every last drop of him.

It eventually got to the point where he couldn't take it anymore and he was throwing his head back repeatedly against the wall, his eyes fluttering open and shut as he choked back a grunt or two—even stifling a scream here and there. It wasn't until she finally realized that she wasn't sucking anything but skin that she realized she had sucked him dry. Even with that knowledge, she still kept him in her mouth—just loving how his cock felt inside her mouth. She would suck and lick and bite just for the sake of doing so, not needing to get anything out of it. This was more than enough payment.

When she finally did release him from her mouth and pulled away, she couldn't help but notice how red and swollen his cock was when she was done with it—whether that was a result of his erection or if it was her doing with how hard-core she had gotten with him, she couldn't quite decide. He was covered in bite marks too, she noticed. His hips, she also realized, had bruises forming from how hard she had been holding him. Not that he seemed to mind—he certainly wasn't complaining, by any means.

Rising slowly to her feet—in case she couldn't support her own weight—she gave his cock a gentle squeeze, making him flinch and stifle a gasp. Oh, he must've been a little tender there at the moment, all things considered. She forgot: sometimes having sex with a slayer tended to hurt the guy a hell of a lot more than the chick, herself—considering the uber strength she had.

Grimacing and giving a small, apologetic smile, she grabbed onto his shoulders both out of desire and to be sure she was steadied. "Sorry 'bout that."

"God, I'm so not," he barely managed to choke out, as he was still trying to recover from his the best blow job he had ever received in his life. If anything, the pain had only made it all the better—it made it more exciting and definitely more worth it in the end.

Chuckling, she gasped the words, "My turn, then… Sammy. It is my right to have what I want. So…let me tell you what I want. I want you to feel me, Sam. I want you…to need it. I want to make you need me." she said again, in harsh voice, making him look to her in anticipation to see what she would do next.

Before he actually had a chance to recover from the blow job she had given him, she grabbed his hands and brought them down to help him undo her own pants and tug them off. Once her pants were off, she brought Sam's hand in between her legs, only barely brushing it across the skin there at first. "You feel that?" she asked. "You feel me? I want you to feel every inch of me, you hear me? From the inside…out."

She continued on with this, helping Sam very much to feel her from the inside out—but forcing it to be on her terms. She used his hands to continue palming herself and fingering herself, until every inch of his hand showed evidence of _her _pre-come. It took a lot to get her off and the job was so not even close to done yet. This was just the beginning.

Eager to make it happen, she pulled his hands away—not even bothering to clean them off before moving them up to cup her breasts. He watched with a stunned fascination as she took matters into her own hands—using his thumb and index finger to pinch her nipples, which had hardened in only a matter of seconds. She did that until her nipples had very literally been rubbed raw and were sore from how much pressure he had been using on them, before assisting him to slowly move his hands outward to massage the rest of her breasts. Her hands never actually did leave his while he continued this—it was as if she felt an obligation to assist him through every step of this.

With another chuckle she said, "You feel that, Sammy?" She gently squeezed one of her breasts with his hand to get her point across. "You feel it?" She grabbed his index finger and circled it around her nipple, and despite how sensitive it was now, she allowed him to pinch it between his fingers one more time.

Unable to take it anymore, he shifted himself so that he could lower his head to her breasts. He took her already reddened nipple into his mouth and started sucking on it urgently, scraping his teeth across it, rolling his tongue across it, caressing it with the inside of his lower lip, doing everything she would allow him to do with it. When she didn't stop him, he took more of her in—doing the exact same thing to the rest of her breast before going over and giving the other breast the same treatment.

While he continued doing that, Faith brought his finger down and buried it inside herself—followed by another finger and another one. He increased the pressure of his mouth against her breasts while she increased the pressure of his fingers moving at a rapid, rhythmic rate inside of her. For some reason, it was even more intense than it had been back at the bar. Yeah, that had been intense and exhilarating, but this…this was just different. It was better.

"How's that feel, Sammy?" Faith finally asked once she was sure she wasn't going to collapse or anything. "You feel me…how do I feel?"

"You feel…" he gasped out against the skin of her breasts, cutting himself off since he couldn't really put it into words. "…oh, God, you feel—" was all he was able to say after that.

Not satisfied with that answer, she jerked away from him—so abruptly that his fingers actually jerked out of her and she backed up several paces—just out of his reach. She watched as he just stared at her blankly, giving her his best: "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!"expression.

He didn't even have time to recover or process what had happened though, before she was dragging him across the room and slamming him down hard onto the bed. She immediately jumped on top of him, straddling him as she started to riding him—slowly at first just to tease him and not actually give him the satisfaction of it. His eyes fluttered open and shut in his delirium as she rode him, her hips grating harder and harder against his with each movement she made. It was becoming quite impossible to concentrate on her words.

"That is not a good enough answer," she growled. "You tell me…how do I feel? I need to know." She leaned down now so that her breasts were pressing against him and her lips were at his ear. Her breath was hot against his skin. "I need to know how it feels to have you squirming inside of me. To feel your releasing inside me, to feel all of you…God, I need to feel you." A small whimper came from his lips, but he never did actually answer her question. She smiled in satisfaction at having affected him so much.

Without warning she pulled away from him so that she could watch his face with her next words. "But, I can't do that—I won't do that until you tell me how I feel." Her hand slid further down his chest, down to wrap around his cock. It felt hot and tight in her hand, throbbing intensely with the orgasm building up inside of him. God, she could feel it. She could actually feel the pressure of it—of the blood rushing to his cock, of the orgasm itself—she could feel it as she held it in her hands and examined it with the utmost fascination. "I want to make you scream," she whispered roughly, as she began fondling him.

She started off gently stroking him—just enough to get him worked up, her hand trailing up and down the length of him as if this was the most intriguing thing in the world. Then, she moved on to squeeze him—tugging harder and harder on him with each one. It got to the point where she was finally raking her nails up and down the length of his cock, neither one seeming bothered by the blood she had eventually drawn from it. Her other hand worked to massage his balls, starting off just kneading them, but after a while, she was massaging him so hard that he was crying out with both his pain and ecstasy. It was the greatest pain in the world. God, why couldn't more pain feel like this? Oh, God…they were going to die. She could feel it; they were both on the verge of bursting into flames right now.

His cries grew and grew until they were very much bordering on screams. His hands were tightly gripping her hips by this point, holding her in place as she continued to ride him. He would throw his head back and his back would arch up every so often, searching for any and every way to be even an inch closer to her. He knew it was impossible, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Feeling satisfied with that, with the power and control she held over him, Faith finally spoke again. "I want you, Sammy—" Her breathing was so labored that Sam had difficulty understanding her words this time. "I need you...to come for me. You need to come for me, understand...?" Now her words actually were a growl. "You have no choice in the matter. You do…as I say. And, I say…you come for me, you son of a _bitch_!"

With that, she readjusted herself, positioning herself so that his cock was aimed directly between her legs. Keeping her hands wrapped firmly around his cock, she shifted herself to make what she was about to do all the easier. She pressed the tip of his cock gently against herself, merely rubbing it against herself for a moment. She continued shifting herself, using his cock to spread her lips apart and rubbing it hard and fast against the sensitive skin there. God, she was so sore already, but she just couldn't find it within herself to stop. She would press him hard against her clit. She continued riding him while she did this, moving herself against him. His hips bucked up hard with each one, snapping up to collide with hers, meeting her rhythm perfectly.

At one point, she finally couldn't take it anymore, so grabbing hold of his cock again, she brought it down to circle it around her entrance. She rode it so hard that she could feel his orgasm about to explode within him. With each one, she could him getting closer and closer. God, she could feel it—it was on the verge of ripping through his body. His body was trembling desperately with his attempts to contain it, not that that could actually work.

"I want to fuck you raw," she finally growled through clenched teeth. She finally pushed him inside of her—only just barely. The head of his cock was barely pressing against the inner walls of her entrance. He was right there—the orgasm for both of them was seconds away; it was just the matter of setting it off. His cock was throbbing violently inside of her, with each thrust she would allow him. With each thrust, he got farther and farther inside her—never far enough to set either one of them off, but God…

Once she realized it was happening, she only had about a second to react. He tossed his head back and cried out again—his voice cracking with how overwhelmed he was with his ecstasy—and she felt him tense up right before the orgasm exploded within him, ripping violently through his body. Acting quickly, she jerked his cock out of herself and, like that, her head came slamming down hard on it, just barely in time to feel the explosion of the orgasm. She took every inch of him into her mouth sucking hard and fast on him as she felt that releasing once again into her mouth.

He made a sound of protest at his being torn out of her, but it immediately changed into a sound of approval when he felt his cock entering her mouth. Her lips, her teeth, her tongue worked to tug him into her mouth as far as it would go—and she would alternate between sucking, licking, biting, and Frenching him. She ran the inside of her lower lip across the head of his cock, tasting the last of the salty remains on her lips. Her teeth scraped across the length of him and it wasn't until she realized that she had once again sucked him dry, that she pulled away and licked her lips to get the last of it off.

Staring at her in awe, waiting to see just what she would do next, Sam held his breath as his eyes froze on hers. He had no idea what to expect but, God, was it going to be good. He had never been with a chick like this before. Usually it was have the sex and be done with it, but with her, he could see her considering it, her mind reeling as she thought about all the things they could do to one another. Sex was in no way enough; they needed so much more than just plain sex.

And, she was in every way prepared to offer him that so much more. Chuckling once, she shifted herself so that she was eye to eye with him before speaking again. "You ever give a girl oral before?" she whispered, that same wicked smile glued on her face.

Sam wasn't sure he had heard her right. "What?"

Positioning herself on the bed so that she was lying down on her back and pulling him on top of her, she readjusted them—draping her legs over his shoulders and pulling him up against her so that his mouth was right in between her legs.

His eyes were frozen on hers as he realized what she wanted him to do. Whoa, he had never—was that even possible? How could that—?

"You ever give a chick oral?" she repeated, smirking as she readjusted herself. She opened her legs as wide as they would go and shifted herself against him to put herself in the most ideal position to do this so that they could both feel the very best parts of this.

"You want me to…" He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't know how to. And, luckily, he didn't have to.

"It's okay," she said, tangling her fingers in his hair and directing his head even further towards it until his lips hovered mere centimeters from it. "It's all right," she gasped out. "…do it. Believe me, there's nothing in the world like it. Do it, Sammy. Please, I need you to—I need you inside me. Right…now."

That was all the urging Sam needed to press his parted, trembling lips against the skin of _her_ lips. His breath was hot and ragged against her skin, but God, she loved it.

He let out a small gasp at just how fucking amazing this all felt before completely ravaging her, not even bothering with being gentle or worrying about how sensitive she was. He just _went fucking at it_. His teeth would scrape across the skin—sometimes hard enough to almost draw blood, but if anything, that spurred her on, making her cry out in her ecstasy, ordering him to do it again. His lips and tongue worked against her skin, Frenching and sucking on her so hard that he could actually feel her starting to swell from the intensity and pressure of it. He noticed the bruises that were starting to form, but even _that _didn't make him stop.

Nothing did. Nothing could. His tongue was dragging along the skin of her lips, taking in the very taste and feel of her. God, he could taste the drops of sweat forming on her skin, he could smell the strong odor of her oncoming orgasm. God, it was so, so strong and only growing stronger. He could practically taste the sex on her already.

Giving her lips one swift lick, he finally used his tongue to pull her lips apart—his tongue now flicking her clit and swirling around it. He bit down hard on her clit before wrapping his lips completely around it and sucking urgently on it. Oh, God…oh, God…oh, God…

His hands—which had been tight on her legs, locking them in place on the bed to make his entering her all the easier—raced up to cup her breasts in his hands. His hands began palming her, fondling her, massaging her. The tips of his index fingers circled experimentally around her nipples, which had already hardened into peaks in her anticipation, standing out oh, so obviously. He finally pinched her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, his hands still doing everything they could to her breasts all the while. While his hands worked against her breasts, he still continued sucking on her clit, not letting up for anything, despite the slight pain he heard in her cries now.

Not that she wanted him to stop, the pain was—dear God—so worth it, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to express it. "Sam!" she finally cried out, making him pull away to peer up at her in between her legs for the briefest of moments. "God, Sammy, don't—don't stop…"

With that, he shifted so his tongue could easily dart in and out of her. Oh, God, now he could definitely taste the sex and it tasted so much better than it smelled. God, was it—oh, God…His tongue continued moving around inside of her, darting in and out in and out in and out at a rapid, intense rate. His movement inside her grew and grew until it became unbearable.

He felt her stiffen up right before the orgasm exploded inside her, her body quaking violently from the impact of it, surging through her and completely taking her over. He never did stop—his tongue continuing darting around inside of her as her orgasm progressed. His lips moved against the skin around her entrance so that he could suck on her and drink down every last drop of _her_ orgasm.

He finally pulled away, licking the last of her orgasm from his lips. He lowered his lips to her entrance one more time, to get anything else that might still be left over. Chuckling softly, seductively—as he began riding her hard—he slid his body against hers. He kept his body entirely pressed against hers, bringing his lips up to hers and capturing her lips in a kiss so that she could taste herself on his lips.

And, like that, without any warning, he was slamming himself hard inside of her—burying his cock in the very depths of her. God, he was going to die. The feel of it all was so overwhelming…he felt like he was on the verge of being incinerated with the mere power of her gaze as her eyes locked on his. His cock was intensely throbbing—with his next orgasm, which was all ready, building up within him already—squirming inside of her and rocking hard against her inner walls.

Her hands clutched desperately at his shoulder blades, her nails digging in hard to his skin as she clung to him, holding him as close to her as was physically possible. There was no possible way for them to be any closer. It was only a matter of seconds before her second orgasm was ripping through her, meeting his orgasm and bringing them both to whole new levels of excitement and arousal. God, this was like nothing either one of them had ever felt before. They rode the orgasm out together, her hips snapping up hard to buck against his and his once again matching that rhythm of hers perfectly. They cried out for one another, rocking against each other hard and fast, the pressure and intensity building more and more each and every time another orgasm was reached.

They lost count of how many times they actually had sex—trying absolutely every position they could think of. Standard, anal, oral; you name it, they did it—numerous times, over and over again. Having sex in every place they could think of. The bed, the floor, against the wall, the shower—so much for the morning after clean-up shower—you name it, they had sex on it or against it or under it or near it.

Their entire existence, their entire reason for being at all at the moment was completely comprised of sex right now. It revolved around sex, nothing but. Sex, sex, sex, and more sex…

And, yes, sex…


	4. Chapter 4

"You sure you know what you're getting yourself into?" Sam asked, for clarification, as he and Faith now waited outside the motel room for Dean to come pick them up. "I mean, you don't have to do this. This isn't your problem, you know."

Faith shrugged. "Hey, got nothing else to do. Might as well have something good come out of that nothing, right?"

"Something fucking amazing has already come out of that nothing," he assured her, pressing a soft kiss to her lips as his hand slid around her waist, dropping down to cup her ass. "Everything that comes out of you is fucking amazing."

She chuckled once seductively. "Barely figure that out, did you?"

"Well…" Dean's voice came from behind them. "Sammy always has been a little slow. It's all right, though, you just have to learn to look past it."

Sam withdrew his hand immediately and took a step away from Faith, before turning around to face his brother. "Dean. Took you long enough. Where the hell have you been, man?"

"Hey, Sammy. And, how was your night?" Dean sounded quite cocky like he was choking back laughter.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. "Fine. And, how were margaritas 3, 5, and 7?"

"Not nearly as good as 9, but my God, they are gettin' up there—thank you for asking. Not nearly as up as some people I know, but hey…" This time, Dean definitely snorted, his eyes locked on Faith. "Hey, you. I tell you, it sure is nice to know some people are still interested in doing charity work around here." He clapped Sam on the back. "I applaud you."

"Hardly call you guys charity work," Faith said with a laugh.

"You what?" Sam and Dean said at the same time, turning their eyes on Faith.

Wrapping an around each of their shoulders and standing up on her tip toes so she could whisper in their ears, she said, "Let's just say—" to Sam. "—your father must've had amazing stamina—" to Dean. "—cause, dear God, is it hereditary." To Sam.

With a suggestive chuckle, she pulled away from them and started walking off towards the Impala, throwing her bag in the back seat. "Coming, boys?" she called, as she slid into the back seat beside her bag and slammed the door shut behind herself.

"For you, always," they both called after her at the same time, before turning back to each other, with a mixture of confusion and simultaneous realization. It took a second before they could speak again, again speaking at the same time:

"Dude, did you—? Of course I did!" They both averted their eyes from each other's with the realization that they had both— "Oh, fuck!"


End file.
